


Extensive foreplay

by SweetTARDIS



Series: Brienne's birthday Celebration [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Foreplay, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetTARDIS/pseuds/SweetTARDIS
Summary: Jaime decides to surprise his wife on her birthday.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Brienne's birthday Celebration [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594750
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Extensive foreplay

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at smut. Hope you enjoyed it.

Birthdays were supposed to be a change from the usual, a refreshing break from the mundane day-to-day routine one was bound to, but Brienne discovered it to be just another regular day. Work, work and more work, exhausting discussions with teammates, minor arguments with the boss; and before she could even realise, it was time to go home.

But her schedule at work apart, what irked and upset her the most was that Jaime hadn’t even wished her. Not at midnight, not all day, not even a message or a phone call. Disappointingly, she’d sort of expected this from him. Five years, they had been together, including the one year of their marriage, and her husband had always had the dubious reputation of remembering her birthday a day late. Apologies and gifts would follow, no doubt, but nothing could compete with the thrill, the exhilaration, the anticipation of being kissed by the man she loved to bring in the day she was born.

Anyway, there was no use complaining, because drilling it into him had zero effect. And it was with the same sinking expectation that she turned the key to enter her apartment that night.

“Happy Birthday, wench!”

Brienne had to halt before she could step in to ascertain if she had entered the right house. The lights were off with the living room was full of candles, the air loaded with a faintly pleasant lavender scent.

And in front of her stood her husband with a warm smile on his face.

“Jaime, what--”

He gave her no chance to bombard him with questions or express her surprise, rushing to her and greeting her with the hottest kiss he had given her in days. Dropping her handbag into the nearest chair, she melted into his arms, his lips and his embrace wiping out all traces of her fatigue.

“Sorry, I forgot to wish you earlier,” he whispered, before beginning to kiss her again, slowly, softly and seductively.

“Aww, thank you,” she purred, lazily winding her arms around his neck, allowing him to hold her, letting herself be blown away by his touch, the heat of his lips and the familiar moist intrusion of his tongue beginning do do more than getting rid of her tiredness.

Kiss after hungry kiss followed and Brienne wished he would take her to bed right now. She craved to stay like this for days together… in bed with him, kissing him and touching him, fucking him, making hot sweet love to him. Alas, tomorrow was a weekday and there was no way she could shirk away from it, which left her with no option to break away from him now to carry on with the rest of her chores for tonight beginning with, “Dinner--”

“Already taken care of,” he proudly announced. “I’ve cooked for you tonight,” he revealed, giving her a broad smile, “to make up for my lapse.”

She teased the nape of his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “That is so sweet of you, Jaime. Now if you’ll let me go, I’ll freshen up and--”

“I have something else for you,” he said, and before she could ask, he led her to their bedroom, which again, was softly lit by seductive candles. “A relaxing massage,” he explained, when she looked at the empty bed, “to refresh and rejuvenate you.”

She threw him a quizzical look. “You’ve hired a masseuse?”

He broke into a naughty grin. “I’m your masseur for tonight, my dear.”

Brienne continued to gape at him. “But you don’t have any formal training. Do you even know how to--”

“Trust me, wench,” he encouraged. “I did happen to take a course years back. Thought I might put it to use tonight.”

Unsure whether to give in to his strange offer or not, she stood there thinking, when he said, “Take your clothes off and lie down. I’ll be back right away.”

Keeping her uncertainty away, she went about doing as told, because there was no harm trying, giving him a chance. And by the time she had stripped down completely, Jaime had arrived, clad in nothing but a towel around his waist and armed with a bottle of what she guessed was oil.

She lay down on her stomach, rubbing herself against the sheets in an attempt to calm down her hardening nipples, his toned physique having the same impact as usual on her groin, stirring something within, churning so much inside her. Twisting her head up to an odd angle to look at him, she couldn't resist asking, “Why the hell have you taken your clothes off?”

He set the bottle on the nightstand. “So that I don’t get oil on them. Difficult to wash off.”

Brienne went back to facing the pillow, a rush of warmth spreading all over her. His sly smile and twinkling eyes hinted that there was more to this than just a soothing body massage, a hidden intent which wasn’t as innocent as she’d initially thought it to be.

“Ready?”

“Hmm.”

Closing her eyes, she resigned to him, deciding to let everything else go, hoping for this to calm her down and allow her some well-deserved rest. He poured a generous helping of oil on her back and began rubbing her, with his fingertips first, soft and light.

She sighed. One little touch of his, and she felt her fatigue fade away. There was more to come. She smiled to herself. This really was turning out to be a lovely treat. He went back and forth, slow and easy, settling into a smooth rhythmic pattern, easing her muscles, releasing the knots. “Good so far?” he asked, and she moaned into her pillow, her breathing settling into a rhythm to match his hands. 

She could feel more oil being slathered on to her back, and his hands coming onto her a bit firmer this time, his strokes fuller and with more pressure than earlier, kneading and rubbing, the friction, despite being lubricated by the oil, heating her from within. Up, he went to the small of her back, halting there to tease her with light circular movements, clockwise and anticlockwise, left and right, once, twice, thrice… and then she lost count, her eyes growing heavier as his hands made themselves at home on her. 

He stroked her shoulder blades in rhythmic vertical strokes, and every time he did that, his greasy fingers peeped down her front to kiss her cleavage in a touch that barely lasted a second or two. It was just a brief brush of his fingertips, but so damn burning hot, it was that it left her frustrated and yearning for more, much much more than soft touches like this. Massages were meant to fill people with calm, not make them horny as hell and craving for wild animal sex. He began another sequence of slow L-shaped strokes; first vertical, from her lower back to her shoulder blades, followed, then, by a horizontal massage of the width of her back. So damned breathtaking it was! Literally. Particularly when he, no doubt in a deliberate attempt to torture her, made it a point to reach out under her arms and caress the swell of her breasts.

He busied himself with this loop for a while, and every single time, Brienne was left fighting her body’s reactions, trying not to succumb to her rapidly mounting ache for him, yet wanting him so much that she’d flip around right now and have his cock buried deep within her.

After about five minutes, he moved to the lower half of her body, meting out the same luxurious treatment to her lower back, his wrists brushing her ass every time he went up and down. Further down, he went, gripping her ass-cheeks firmly, holding on to them before letting go, then repeating the same cycle again.

“Gods, Jaime,” she softly whimpered, when he pressed a thumb to a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her spine, the perfect pressure setting up her mood for something exactly the opposite to sleep and rest.

When he was done with her back, he descended further, taking charge of her legs now, the right one first, at his mercy as he rubbed her up and down, rolling and caressing her. Every time he went up her thigh, she twitched. Every time his fingers reached between her legs, fresh tremors rocked her. It wasn’t the first time he was touching her or pleasuring her, but with Jaime, every time was a new experience, something new uncovered, something erotic, something they would both tuck away to try and cherish again later.

His hands abruptly went off her back. 

“Flip,” he instructed, and when she did, he sprayed her front with another slithery dose of oil. The towel on his waist was gone, she noticed, the sight of his engorged cock filling her with expectation and her cunt with pleasurable spasms. Her stomach, it was, this time, when Jaime began his slick strokes again, setting sail on an excruciatingly slow journey between the start of her mound to her navel. With every few inches of skin that he covered, he paused a few seconds, covering the patch he chose with feathery little flicks of his fingertips, a light touch of pressure at some points and gentle long strokes for the rest.

“Ohh,” she gasped loudly, when he slid a finger into her navel.

“Like it?” he asked, his voice thick and husky as he twirled his finger around it in tender, lazy circles.

“Oh, yes,” she slurred, picturing the grand moment when he would bring this extended foreplay to an end and sink his sword deep into her, taking her to levels of pleasure no one else ever had.

To her agony and delight, he was just half way through with a good part of her body still to be serviced. He poured a thin stream of oil on her breasts, and she squirmed at the thought of what was to come. “You’re going to enjoy this more than anything else,” he suggested in a tone that told her he was fast losing his patience as well, he was hard and ready and eager to get on to the next stage as soon as he was done and over with this. 

She sighed in bliss when he placed his forefinger to her left nipple, spreading the oil along it in soft feathery movements beginning the next half of the session that handed out ecstasy as well as made her suffer. She cried her throat out, “ _Yes_ ,” and a couple of times more, when he teased the tip, playing with it, pressing it, pinching and rolling it with his thumb and forefinger until it became hard and stiff in his hand, then releasing it. “Ahhh, Jaime,” she cooed, when he carried on in this fashion for a good many seconds before moving to her right breast to repeat the tortuous treatment.

She could hear his heavy breathing join hers when he abandoned the tease and groped her breasts, caressing them with his palm, holding them still for a while, then fondling them, kneading them… She felt the wetness pool between her legs, unbearable and soon to be uncontrollable if he kept going like this. He increased the pressure and the pace of his strokes, pinching and playing with her tits, and she writhed helplessly, gripping the sheets for support, hoping she wouldn’t dissolve into a pool of helpless liquid before he’d even actually begun with her. Of all her body, Jaime liked her breasts the most, touching, punishing and tasting them, and she was always blown to pieces when he pleasured her like that. Five years of experience had fed him with enough information to know what she wanted and how she wanted it.

To her disappointment, he let go of her breasts to move on to her lower half, and lifting her left leg off its resting position, he began massaging her foot, stretching out her toes, caressing her ankle, stroking her heel and sole. Once or twice, she twitched when he rubbed her sole, particularly ticklish there. He took his time with every part, ironing out the stiffness in her limbs, soothing her in both body and mind.

She shut her eyes and let herself float around in a cloud. This was bliss. She had died and gone to heaven, probably.

When he took to the inside of her thighs, however, things began getting trickier again for her. Starting with short strokes from the knee and upwards, with each move, he went further and further up… until he reached her mound.

Brienne let out a loud gasp, gripping whatever she could of the bedspread.

 _Fuck,_ she swore in her mind, when the fingers that had tortured her cunt countless times casually trespassed into that area in slow tantalizing circles, not properly touching her there, not completely staying away either. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ she cursed in her head. He was such a tease! Why couldn’t he have fucked her straightway without subjecting her to this wonderful punishment, why, oh, why did he have to--

“ _Fuck!_ ” 

She cried out aloud when he went a step further, sliding an oily finger into her. Spreading her wide open, he brought in another finger to join it, stroking her long and slow along the length of her slit. The slow moves soon turned frantic and desperate, the tempo building up to an extent that left her throbbing and shuddering and blinded to the world around her.

“Jaime, please,” she begged, when he ventured into the territory of rough and wild. “Enough of this. Get into bed with me and give me a good hard fuck--”

She had to wait no more. He hopped onto the bed and knelt between her legs, his hands firmly gripping her legs, his head bent between them. His mouth seeking her cunt, he took her to a whole new level of unbearable, slurping her folds, lapping up her juices, eating his way in. 

She brought her hands to her breasts, pleasuring herself, punishing herself--

He hit her clit, tonguing it, stimulating it, and she yelped, her leg thrashing and out of her control. Tightening his hold on her legs, he spread her even wider, tasting her, drinking her in, relishing her--

Crushing him between her legs, she reached down to tousle his hair, guiding him, pushing his head deeper down and his tongue far into the corners she wanted him to be in. Hungry and aggressive, he continued with his well-paced movements, and she grabbed the bedsheet hard, yanking it off its position, tearing some of the embroidery off it.

She was dripping wet. Aching. In agony. On the road to bliss, if only he'd be kind enough to cooperate. Her body was covered with a greasy mixture of oil and sweat and she was a boneless mess. Waiting for him. To finish it off. To give her the respite she’d been fighting tooth and nail for. Oh, she wanted him so badly. And she wanted him now!

Almost as if he’d read her mind, he straightened to look her in the eye. 

“ _Jaime_ ,” she implored, silently pleading with him to take pity on her.

Her look, her hunger, the need in her voice was enough. He slid into her, and she opened her mouth in a loud, long gasp. He slipped in a little further, and she opened her legs wider to accommodate his familiar girth. He stayed in her, one hand riding up and down her front to continue the massage.

He withdrew, then plunged in again, this time, burying himself inside her to the balls. 

So many times. So many fucking times they’d had sex, but his first full thrust always had her panting and breathing heavily and clenching whatever she could to brace herself for the onslaught to come. She clutched his arm in a death grip, stretching to hold him in, her body, a perfect mould for him, her senses, perfectly attuned to his. 

“Fuck me like you did on our wedding night, Jaime,” she shouted, when he pulled back, and went in again, “hard and rough.”

So he did.

The next few seconds were the best Brienne could remember of the past few days, the impact of his cock on her G-spot, the best sensation she had felt in days, the sound of his hips slapping into hers, the best sound she would hear for days. He kept ramming into her, pounding hard and fast and rough, just like she wanted it, not to be forgotten for days, until, at least, their next wild night made its appearance.

“Jaime, I love you,” she screamed, when her muscles couldn’t take it anymore, when she couldn’t sustain anymore, her orgasm, by far, the best, until the next could be powerful enough to better it.

She could feel him throbbing inside her, strained to his limits and ready to shatter to pieces. She knew he was coming from his sweaty flushed face and the way he shut his eyes, from the way his nails dug into her thighs, hard and desperate.

And he came in no ordinary way. Always magnificent, always out of this world. Explosive. 

When the storm that was Jaime Lannister had finally calmed down, he slid out of her and collapsed into her arms, a sweaty and oily mass of flesh just like her.

“So,” he drawled, dropping tender kisses around her nipples as he slid into a comfortable position to cuddle her, “what do you think?”

She brought her face to his, kissing him once, twice, thrice, before she said, “I never knew you were this talented a masseur. You could be a professional.”

He smiled mischievously. “My services are reserved only for my wife.” Burying his face in her chest, he began kissing her breasts again, slowly and sensually. “Happy birthday, darling,” he exhaled, his warmth sending another bolt of desire down her cunt. “I love you too, and may you live to have many more such days.”

“Many more like _today_ , I hope,” she made her birthday wish, wrapping her legs around him, ready and looking forward to another round of pleasurable love making before the need for dinner would force them out of bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
